Saving the Saviour
by HookedOnFics
Summary: After his miraculous defeat of Voldemort at a year old,Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, stands uncertain and torn at the darkest crossroad of his life without friends or family, who will save him before he is doomed to a destiny of darkness?


Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K Rowling's books, or anyone's books.

It was already sunset; the sky turned from the colour of lime, into the colour of dark, fierce crimson, yet the muggles in London were still buzzing around, walking on streets, hand in hand, there were chatters, gossips among them, as if there was nobody's business. Sunset, he thought, is the time where the business of amusement parks and pubs begins. Everyone, almost every single muggle would be there, enjoying themselves. Little did they know that somewhere near them, someone among them would die a painless, abrupt death.

On his flying bike, a baby boy was placed safely in the moped, with Hagrid's safe driving shielding him from any mortal danger. Hagrid could feel tears running, welling beneath his eyelids. He could not see a sign of deceit in the whole catastrophe, he couldn't feel a single pulse in their throat, he couldn't feel a single thump of heartbeat beneath their breastbones, couldn't feel a slight breath under his forefinger, below their noses, those only leave him with truth, the truth signifying that they were indeed, dead.

How he wished, he told himself, that there was a rewind button, or a time turner, how well did he wish that he could've save them from all that trouble, from deaths, and that single object that could save them was in his cold, furry palms. He was tormenting himself to madness, blaming himself for all he'd done, but he could not save them. If he was one step earlier, or maybe two, he could have save them. He kept doing his guilt a favour, he kept reminding himself that it was a fact, and a fact is history. Nobody could change that, not even the greatest wizards of all times.

Not even the Dumbledore, or perhaps, Lord Voldemort himself.

However, the sort of fire in your body, the kind of energy, strong and bold, he could feel it with the presence of the little boy beneath him, he could hear him chuckle to himself, amused by the scene around him. He could as well sense life. He managed to rid the suicidal feeling. He could've ripped himself apart if not for him. He reminded himself,

You could have been dead by now, if not for baby Harry.

The journey was slow, longwinded, it was unusual as that wasn't Hagrid's driving, he could've revved up the engine within a mere three seconds and set off into space and reach Grimmauld Place within five minutes. He crouched even lower, and tried speeding up the current pace, he'd attempted to place his foot on the throttle, yet he hadn't managed to do it. There was just a slight obstacle; certainly not himself, but the baby boy in front of him, delicate and innocent. He'd often wondered if he'd ever go to Hogwarts, wondered whether he could gain sympathy, or plain admiration in the Wizarding world, and pondered on whether he could end up a Quidditch player, a Chaser on the pitch, or would he achieve better, Seeker, perhaps, and pumping his fists in the air, a sign of victory.

He landed at Grimmauld Place after an hour's journey; the bike engine was a thundering boom, however, slowly resolving into a night's whisper. He could normally, smell a sign of hope, sense a sparkle of light from the house before him, however, now, it was just dread, only a million times worse.

He carried the baby out from the moped, into his furry arms, and yet again Harry chuckled to himself, it was more like a giggle. Did he know that his parents were dead? Did he know that his near-death experience would've given Lord Voldemort too many options to choose from?

However, he scrutinized Harry's expression, godlike and delicate. No, he told himself. There was neither sign of relief, nor a sign of innocence if he'd looked closer. It was a sign, horrible as it could be, brushing across his face. It was a sign of great pain and agony. His face reflecting the aftermath, displaying images of both his parents, the deceased. His laugh, it wasn't a giggle, it was a maniacal laughter, it was the laughter of madness. He was ready to avenge his parent's murder.

He was indeed, ready.

Hagrid was startled after his certain point of discovery, it had him overwhelmed. He managed to break himself from his reverie and poke his pink umbrella to the ground and stood there for a few seconds. The small black gate unlocked itself, and he stepped in on the pathway. Grimmauld Place revealed itself from its neighbours. Hagrid felt a sudden pang of regret for coming here; he hadn't known a word to say to them. Should he be frank by telling them truth, or should he let the truth reveal itself, he asked himself, and again felt, fresh, pure moisture in his heavy eyes.

"Professor D'ubbledore!" He managed to recompose himself and shouted for Professor Dumbledore. He knew that he was the only one that could give him a hug for what he'd accomplished right now, despite him being a failure under all circumstances. His voice, surprisingly, wasn't quivering at all. Not until Professor Dumbledore himself opened the door, his blue scorching eyes wise under the half moon glasses, and stood before him. He hadn't managed to control his tears; it kept slipping out from under his swollen eye bags, until there was none. Despite his dead weight, he let out a dreadful sigh and collapsed on Dumbledore's shoulders,

"Dubbledore, Dubbledore," His voice lowered to a whisper, "Harry's alive, see? See?" He asked, his voice sympathetic, he lifted his palms higher and allowed Dumbledore to examine him. Dumbledore gently lifted his black, curls at the top left hand corner of his sweaty face, revealing a scar. It was no ordinary scar, it was a shape of lightning, piercing through his forehead.

"No." Dumbledore murmured and looked up to Hagrid, "Where are the other Potters?"

Then there were footsteps coming by, it was Remus who had decided to pay them a visit. "Yeah, where are they, I reckon they are outside, aren't they? Call them in, quick! I've got tons of things to tell them about!" Remus asked, however, his eyes turned from enthusiastic to wary as he peered over Harry's scar.

"Where on earth did he get that from, I don't remember Harry having a scar like that." Remus asked another question, however it was Hagrid's turn to speak out, he was perplexed, and he was under a circumstance where he'd turned into no options at all.

"James and Lily Potter had been murdered." He sobbed, "Murdered by Lord Voldemort."

Until his voice was inaudible.


End file.
